


Some Variation of Perfection

by vanishingbyler



Category: Love Simon (2018), Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda - Becky Albertalli
Genre: Actor Simon, Alternate Universe, F/F, Future Fic, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-24 22:05:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14364669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanishingbyler/pseuds/vanishingbyler
Summary: Simon and Bram are 25, and their lives have taken total opposite directions. But lines that don't run parallel always meet at some point, and for the two of them, this meeting is the start of something ten years in the making.





	Some Variation of Perfection

**Author's Note:**

> This is the longest fic I've ever posted on my AO3? Like, one chapter is longer than my longest multichap? So I hope people actually like this because I'm so happy with it, it ran away with itself as an idea and turned into so much more than I expected it to and it fixes a lot of the issues I usually have with writing so?? Idk I'm just so happy with how it's turned out and I'm excited to write the next few chapters.

Bram Greenfeld is not a theatre person.

 

He’s never been to see a play, never even watched movie adaptations. He skimmed the class notes for  _ Romeo and Juliet  _ and doesn’t know the difference between  _ Sweeney Todd  _ and  _ Little Shop of Horrors.  _ In short, he’s clueless. He can’t define good acting, nor bad, and he’s not ashamed to admit it.

 

Yet here he is, front row at a Broadway show.  _ Book of Mormon,  _ to be exact. He’s here because Elder Price is being played by none other than Simon Spier, his first gay crush. He only knows about this through the grapevine; Simon hadn’t posted it on Facebook, the only social media Bram has him on. He heard from his long time best friend, Garrett Laughlin, who heard from Nick Eisner, who got it out of Abby Suso, his ex-girlfriend that happens to be dating Leah Burke, who is best friends with Simon and has been for twenty years now.

 

A complicated process, to say the least.

 

Tickets weren’t cheap, but Bram felt like he kind of had to be here. Closure, or whatever. This was the boy that, in freshman year, taught Bram that maybe he  _ did  _ find dirty blond hair and deep hazel eyes attractive, just not on the girls that had tried making moves on him at the eighth grade dance. To see him now, watch the success that he’d reached and the good that age had done him, would maybe be enough to help Bram move on. It was somewhat embarrassing to admit, but the crush had never quite gone away.

 

Not that he hadn’t tried. In the seven or so years since high school ended, Bram had had more flings than he could count. He isn’t proud of it, and he doesn’t want to be that person any more. He regrets that any boy he saw that he found even the slightest bit attractive got a taste of the Greenfeld charm (and, somewhat more importantly, the Greenfeld lips). By the end of college, he’d slept with every gay guy in the Baltimore area, though rarely more than once. He’d blindly made his way through countless gay bars, even tried to turn a few guys on the dance floor at straight clubs. No matter how many people he got down with, however, he never had feelings for any of them. Not one. Because for all these years, only one boy had held his attention for longer than a night.

 

And here he is, walking out into a spotlight.

 

God, he’s attractive. Time had changed him, of course, but not in the bad way it had touched some of Bram’s old friends. His hair is shorter, cropped around the sides and no longer falling in his eyes the way Bram had fawned over for years. Bram smiles seeing his eyes, no longer hidden behind glasses - they’re grey, almost silver. They reflect light in the way diamonds do, almost dazzling to Bram’s own eyes, which can’t seem to tear themselves away. And  _ damn _ , Simon looks good in white.

 

Distracted as the other Elders start to sing their parts, Bram wonders how Simon got here. It’s no secret that he was never the shining star of any Creekwood High productions. If Bram remembers correctly (and, to be honest, any high school memories that don’t feature Simon are somewhat fuzzy), Simon was Company Member #8 in their senior year production of  _ Cabaret _ , that Bram had never made it to. Actually, he is pretty sure of this fact, because Simon’s Facebook profile photo is still of him in the sparkly red suit and eyeliner, cropped from the cast photo, fuzzy and captioned ‘ _ unnamed character 8 is here to steal ur girl’.  _ Bram still remembers the way his heart leapt when Martin Addison commented “don't u mean boy” and Simon told him to fuck off.

 

Bram’s eyes snap up again as Simon starts to speak. His slight southern drawl is still there. It’s never been strong, but he definitely stands out against Elder Cunningham, who according to the playbill, is a born-and-bred New Yorker.

 

His speaking voice, much like his singing, is strong and calm. It’s no longer riddled by the mumbling and cracking that had plagued him throughout high school. He sounds like a man, and Bram realises that makes sense. He’s 25 now. He  _ is  _ a man.

 

Bram finds himself belly-laughing through the third song. It’s so un-Simon that he can’t help it. While they were never close in school, eating lunch at the same table was enough for anyone with eyes and half a brain to realise that Simon Spier is the least selfish person on the face of the earth. He’d put the happiness of his friends and family above his own no matter what. Legend has it, that’s why it took him so long to come out - he didn’t want to disappoint anyone.

 

Even his coming out had been jokey and insincere, phrased in such a way that he wouldn’t upset people. Short and sweet, like Simon himself.  _ “hey sweet girl at rehearsals today that asked me on a date that i said i’d get back to: i’m gay, but can we go out for iced coffee? i do that with all my friends.” _

 

Just as Bram was getting distracted with thoughts of Simon’s homosexuality, his attention is drawn to the stage as he hears “my hetero side just won”. He starts to really wish he’d been paying attention to the plot of this damn musical.

 

The whole theatre is laughing at this point, the man beside Bram going so far as to wipe tears from his eyes. Bram is chuckling, but he still doesn’t entirely know what’s happening. Who are these other Mormons? Who’s gay? What are they turning off?

 

The laughter kicks in when Simon rushes in to say “no, no,  _ I’m  _ not having gay thoughts!”. In fact, two familiar laughs break through the wall of noise in the room. Abby Suso’s bark of joy, and Leah Burke’s borderline-screech. Bram finds it even funnier when he looks around and sees Nick Eisner whooping on the balcony, and a middle-aged woman glaring at him. Maybe this moment has a special kind of humour to those that know quite how gay Elder Price’s thoughts really are.

 

Bram sinks into the show a little more after that, knowing that his old friends are here for the same reason he is. He loses himself in Simon’s voice (and at times, in his eyes). His heart swells countless times, and butterflies flood his stomach. He hates himself for feeling 14 again, but only kind of.

 

After all, it’s hard not to have a schoolboy crush on Simon freakin’ Spier.

 

He isn’t sure if all it took to get him to enjoy a theatre production was one hot guy.  _ The  _ hot guy. Maybe this show is just really good. Maybe the cast had supernatural powers to control the audience’s reactions. Maybe Bram was destined to like the theatre all along, but he’d been too busy to realise his calling before. Or, no, it was probably the hot guy.

 

That being said, Bram was the first to his feet when it came to giving a standing ovation. He cheered for the whole cast, and when Simon came up to bow he screamed so loud he could already feel how much his throat would hate him by morning. He could swear he saw a glint in Simon’s eye, dead eye contact being made for the briefest moment, but he shakes it off. He’s seeing what he wants to see. He continues to clap until his hands get sore, until the whole cast is offstage, until those around him are leaving and starting to glare.

 

Bram can’t find it in himself to care what other people think of him. He’s so wrapped up in the wonderful world of Simon Spier, the world of Broadway, the bright lights and starstruck vibes he’s getting from New York City as a whole.

 

This day has been filled with so many firsts for him. It’s his first time in New York, his first time in a theatre, his first time hearing Simon Spier sing.

 

It’s not, unfortunately, the first time he’s screamed like a little girl at Abby Suso leaping onto his back and hugging him, all the while screeching his name in his ear. Leah, ever shy, is stood a couple feet away, smiling kindly but pulling her cardigan across her body. Bram’s not blind - he’s known since high school that the only thing Leah doesn’t like about Abby is how unthinkingly she can throw her body about, fearless of how anything will handle her weight. God, Bram doesn’t think he can ever forget the way Leah folded in on herself the time a health teacher used the two girls as an example of body types, describing Abby as “optimal” and Leah as “a health risk”. 

 

It’s another reason he fell in love with Simon. Quiet, non-confrontational Simon, who leapt out of his chair to pull Leah into the tightest hug of all time, cursing out the teacher and every single student that had laughed. It took Leah three weeks before she felt comfortable coming back to that class, and once she finally did, Simon sat beside her like a guard dog.

 

Bram hugs Abby, letting her down gently to the ground and kissing her on the cheek, before turning to Leah with a beaming smile across his features.

 

“Burke!”

“Greenfeld!”

 

As always, Bram leaves it to Leah to initiate any physical contact. He’s never had weight issues, but in his peak internalised homophobia days he barely dared go within 5 feet of another boy without their say-so, in fear they’d feel the gay radiating off him and express disgust. He and Leah weren’t too different in that respect. She doesn’t hug him, but she shoots him the brightest smile he thinks he may have ever seen.

 

“Didn’t take you for a theatre guy, Bram.”

“I’m not, really.” Bram says, willing his dark skin to mask the blush rising rapidly up his cheeks.

Leah’s eyes widen, a mischievous glint sparking across them. “You’re a Simon guy…”

“Leah-“ he begins to warn, but she laughs him off.

 

Nick joins them, throwing a friendly arm around Bram and pulling an affectionate face at Abby. It’s odd, kind of. These people that he spent so many years eating beside, chatting aimlessly with, competing against, are here. Here, and real. Real adults. It feels like the long-awaited sequel to a much-loved film that nobody expected to happen, or if they ever made the  _ Friends  _ reunion that Garrett won’t stop hyping up. Despite having not seen these people in more than five years (save Nick, who’d been around for one or two of Garrett’s wild parties), Bram feels at home with them. He feels more complete than he has in a long time, more complete than any number of one night stands and bar-bathroom handjobs could have made him.

 

And of course, clouding his mind with thoughts of his regrettable sexual endeavours changes the atmosphere. His hand starts to shake, the way it does when he gets upset, and he pulls away from Nick’s bro pose to sit back in his seat. He’s not going to cry, he’s not that kind of sad, but that doesn’t stop him getting overwhelmed.

 

Because nothing has changed. Or at least, that’s how these guys are acting. It’s different for them, maybe, because they’ve seen each other near enough every day since high school. Bram isn’t sure where he fits. Isn’t even sure if he does. These guys haven’t changed, save for a slightly more mature fashion sense and calmer demeanours. Bram has. Nobody can deny that.

 

The questionable decisions he made in college are always going to be there. He doesn’t know why he made them. He regretted it at the time. He knew he was just trying to fill a Simon-shaped hole in his heart.

 

None of his friends have had to do that. Nick and Abby had the world’s most amicable breakup, and Leah and Abby make the cutest couple Bram’s ever seen. None of them have felt the heartbreak that Bram has, and he never even got all the fun bits before his heart got broken. He basically broke his own heart by falling for Simon, and he only has himself to blame. He doesn’t deserve to be here, forcing himself into Simon’s life like a parasite, slipping back into the friend group like it wasn’t his own fault for losing touch with them in the first place.

 

He thinks that right up until Leah comes and sits across his lap, arms around his shoulders.

 

Because Leah doesn’t do this for just anyone. In fact, he’s only ever seen her do this before with Simon, Abby, and Garrett. Not even Nick made the cut. That’s when it hits him that  _ no, this is trust. This is friendship. _

 

None of them care that the theatre is now practically empty, save an old biddy or two making use of the bathrooms before hailing a taxi home. They dogpile on Bram the way they used to on birthdays at the lunch table. They hug him and mumble obnoxious comments of love at him until he’s laughing uncontrollably. Eventually, he can barely breathe under the suffocating heat of three people, and he shoves Nick and Abby off him. Again, he doesn’t touch Leah for fear of making her uncomfortable, but his semi-serious gaze is enough for her to shift willingly.

 

A member of the theatre staff comes and politely asks them to leave, and the whole group collapses into fits of giggles as soon as they’re out of the door. This feels like being in high school again, and Bram didn’t realise how much he needed that. The floods of rain aren’t enough to dampen the mood, if anything they lift it. Bram pinpoints the joy he feels right now as the kind of joy that makes people dance in the rain until they catch cold. Deciding not to care what anyone thinks, and overwhelmed with the weight this evening has lifted from his chest, he does just that. He spins around and splashes in the puddles, tap dancing around with all the rhythm of an elephant on stilts. Abby is the first to join him, and Nick is soon to follow. After a moment or two of looking sceptical, Leah clearly decides that she trusts the three of them enough to let loose around them. Before long, she’s dancing with her girlfriend and laughing so hard that her eyes are streaming. Nick is trying some god-awful attempt at breakdancing, and Bram is just having the time of his damn life.

 

Minutes later, Leah wipes the tears from her eyes in order to read a message on her phone, which just buzzed violently in her chest pocket. She snorts as she reads it, turning the screen to display it to her friends.

 

Bram’s breath catches.

 

A photo of Simon, drenched to the core, with his hair hanging in rat tails and the same denim jacket he’d been wearing since tenth grade. He has a grumpy look on his face, but the sparkle in his eyes gives away that he’s not really mad about the state he’s in. He has a cigarette in his mouth, with the obvious stain of a fat raindrop right across the middle of it. It comes alongside the message  _ “where u hoes at i’m freezing my ass off in a weird back alley just off stage door”.  _

 

Leah turns to a starstruck Bram, the cogs turning in her head practically playing out a romance song like a music box.

 

“The three of us and Si are going for drinks, feel like joining?”

“Uh-“ Bram doesn’t know how to phrase this. He wants to say yes, absolutely, but he’s pretty sure a bar full of the kind of guys that he’d have gone after in college is the last place he wants to be for his first conversation with his long-term crush in years. “I- uh- I don’t really do clubs.”

“Who said clubs?” pipes up Nick. “Simon hates them. Twinks like him get swiped up in a heartbeat in places like that, and it’s terrifying.”

“Those are Si’s words, not Nick’s.” Abby clarifies, turning to her ex. “Try not coming off like a know-it-all gay, babe. You don’t even know what a twink is.”

“It’s a- uhh. An? It’s like, a guy that… that…”

 

Leah cuts him off with an affectionate shove, but Bram only really catches sight of it out of the corner of his eye. Because, from around a corner, illuminated by street lights and the dim red glow of a damp cigarette, is Simon Spier. Somehow even prettier out of Mormon costume.

 

“I can hear you guys from down the street!” he calls, pausing to stamp out his near-finished smoke. “And you brought a friend! Wow, I love my new life of fame.”

 

There’s that blush again, making its way through the melanin that Bram was praying would hide it. He hears Leah’s infamous snort, followed by a wheeze as (presumably) Abby digs an elbow into her side.

 

When Simon gets close he slides his glasses, spattered with rain, down his nose to get a clearer look at his unexpected companion.

 

If Bram said his heart doesn’t melt when a grin spreads across Simon’s face when recognition fills his devastatingly pretty eyes, he’d be flat out lying.

 

“Bram!”

 

Simon, always less conscious of personal space than the others, throws his arms around Bram and hugs him tight.

 

When he pulls away again, his hands stay on Bram’s broad shoulders, and the whole heart-melty thing happens again.

 

“You got taller!” Simon grins. He then turns to Leah, the colour draining from his face and an expression of mock horror spreading across it. “Or did I get shorter?”

Leah snorts, yet again. “Nope. Still 5’8”, Si. You're a few years off being a certified dwarf yet.”

“Sweet.” he says, turning back to Bram with a mad smile on his face. “So dude, what are you doing here? I saw you at the show and nearly did a double take onstage!”

“G told me about the show. I've never been to the theatre before so I figured I may as well make this my first.”

“I took your virginity? Awesome!”

 

Yet again, Bram is fighting a dark blush. After all these years, Simon is still the one that can send Bram’s world crashing down around him with just a few words. He sees Leah smirking, yet again, out of the corner of his eye. He can’t even be annoyed at her, because in all honesty, he’d find this trainwreck hilarious if he weren't the one driving the train.

 

“You coming back to my place? We have a ton of drinks in, easily enough for one more person. We should catch up, dude.”

“Oh, uh… I kinda have to drive back home, so…”

 

It wasn't that he didn't want to be there, more that he didn't think he could handle it. He came to New York to see Simon again so he would know he no longer had a chance. Going back to Simon’s apartment, drinking with him and his friends, getting so close to his world, a world that exists beyond high school and Atlanta and Bram himself.

 

“Home? You live in New York?” That was Nick’s voice, tinged with confusion.

“Uh, no. Baltimore.”   
“That’s like three and a half hours!” Simon chips in. “Nah dude, come back with us. It’s late, I have space, I have beer, these guys are all staying. Come on, we can catch up! It’s been years.”

 

Bram’s tempted, he can’t lie. He wasn’t looking forward to driving through the night, but the cost of accommodation in NYC was too much for him to handle, not after how much he forked out for the tickets to the show in the first place. He knows it isn’t anything suggestive anyway, if all three of Simon’s friends were staying as well. He knows the night would be full of friendly conversation, filling each other in on the last few years, and drinks (something Bram hadn’t indulged in since leaving college, in an attempt to fix the mess he’d turned himself into). It does sound appealing, and it would be nice to see these guys again. Not just Simon, but Leah and Abby as well. A lot’s changed for them, and catching up doesn’t sound too bad.

 

“Sure. Let me just grab my car, I’m parked on 8th Avenue.”   
“Mind if we ride with you? We were just planning on getting a cab. We can give you gas money.” Abby offers.   
“No, no, gas money’s cool. That’s totally fine just- yeah, just hop in.”

 

The five of them walk the short distance from the theatre to where Bram’s car is parked, in a comfortable sort of silence. The rain is easing off by now, a light drizzle making the air just cool enough to be comfortable without leaving anybody shivering. Abby’s hand is entwined with Leah’s, love radiating off them, and Nick and Simon are messing around like they always do. Always did? Bram remembers once more that he doesn’t really know much about what any of them are like anymore. He doesn’t feel out of place here, though, even with the others pairing off.

 

The drive back to Simon’s apartment is nice. Simon connects his phone to the speakers and blasts a playlist - Bram recognises some of the songs as stuff from a few high school parties, and he falls pretty easily into the swing of things the further they go. The drive is only around twenty minutes long, but by five minutes in everybody in the car is jamming to The 1975.

 

As the lights of the city blur around them, Bram falls in love with New York. He falls in love with life, too. He understands why Simon moved here, and he’s kind of jealous. It’s different to the movies, maybe not so glamorous, but it’s beautiful. It’s colour, it’s light, it’s like this whole world that Bram had been deprived of in his dull daily life of unemployment and cheap cereal. It’s weeks since he’s actually seen other people, and it’s surreal that it’s happening with these particular people, in this particular city.

 

They pull up to Simon’s apartment a little before midnight. The five of them are already drunk on laughter, and it takes a few minutes to get the key in the lock and the group of them through the door.

 

As soon as they enter, Abby flops onto the couch, Leah joins, and the two are instantly greeted by a dog. Leah looks elated and practically hisses at Simon when he tries to greet his own dog. Bram is pretty sure it's not Bieber, Simon’s dog, but it's a similar breed.

 

Nick doesn't even bother to ask Simon before collecting an armload of beer cans from the fridge. He reenters the living room and chucks a can each to everyone.

 

Bram allows himself to take in Simon’s apartment. It's pretty big, an open plan living room and kitchen space on the floor they entered on. There's a set of stairs, and Bram can see a bathroom right at the top. He figures there's at least a bedroom up there too, but if the size is anywhere like down here there's probably a lot more. The space itself looks like it's straight from the pages of an interior design catalogue, but it's filled with furniture and clutter that injects Simon’s personality into it.

 

There are family photos, artwork, and a record player adorning the TV stand. The walls, painted a plain off-white, have posters and yet more photos dotted around them. The couch that Abby and Leah have taken residence upon is brown leather, worn from use, with a thick-knit blanket and countless throw pillows covering it. There are two more seats, a standard armchair and a loveseat. None of them are matching materials, and it just makes them seem all the more homely.

 

They all get to chatting about what they’ve been up to the last few years. Bram is the centre of it all, since he was the one that had lost touch. The others still have a group chat, and see each other whenever their jobs and educations allow.

 

By 2am, they’re all on their third or fourth beers. Well, except for Bram, who’s still nursing his first. 

 

“Bram, don’t make us make you chug, dude. Come on, you’re drinking slower than my grandma.”   
“Sorry Nick, no chance of me getting hammered tonight. Why, you wanting to get me drunk so you can confess your undying love?”

 

Simon snorts so hard beer comes out of his nostrils. He’s red in the face, laughing, and the whole room is confused.

 

“Si, baby, how drunk are you?” Abby could either be amused or concerned, at this point her voice is giving nothing away.   
When he gets his breath back after a few moments, Simon responds. “I’m not drunk. I’m just thinking about how the first time I got plastered, at Bram’s Halloween party. Lee, you remember? John and Yoko?”   
“Of course I remember Si. I was the one that had to walk you home. Why’s it funny, though?”   
“I dunno… it just feels kind full circle, doesn’t it? That my first time drinking was at Bram’s place, and now he’s drinking in mine?” He sips his beer before continuing. “It’s nice, don’t you think?”   
“Sure, but don’t expect me to get so wasted that Leah has to peel me off the floor and carry me home. I don’t drink much anymore.”   
“Why not?”   
“Nick!”

 

Bram feels somewhat cornered now, and he wishes he hadn’t said anything. While Abby had scolded Nick for questioning him, there was no real way he could avoid answering now that they were on the topic.

 

“Don’t worry, Abs, it’s not a touchy subject.” He pulls a leg up to his chest and takes another sip, for courage, before looking Nick dead in the eyes. “I had some problems with alcohol back in college.It wasn’t serious or anything, just…”

 

He pauses, unsure how to continue, and he tears his eyes away from his friends. Not because there was something he didn’t want to see, but more that he didn’t want to risk catching sight of pity or, worse, fear in their eyes. Suddenly, there’s a hand on his knee.

 

“Bram, you don’t owe us anything. We get it. You don’t have to drink any more if you don’t want, there are all kinds of soda and juice in the kitchen. You can have something else.”   
“It’s not like that. When I say problems, I don’t mean I was, like, addicted. I just used to get myself into situations I didn’t wanna be in, and instead of taking myself out of them I’d just drink to make them easier. I think, now I’m out of that place, alcohol just makes me feel like I’m trying to take myself out of stuff. I don’t wanna do that here.”

 

Nick apologises, but Bram shakes him off and downs the dregs of his can. He tries to turn the conversation back onto something else, and everyone obliges, but the atmosphere has changed. Only marginally, but it’s tangible. Bram is angry at himself for letting it happen.

 

After another ten minutes where the topic of conversation is ‘anything but Bram’, Abby lets out a clearly fake yawn, and Leah follows suit. Bram is almost grateful that they’re cutting the night short.

 

“Hey Si, what are the sleeping arrangements?”   
“You and Abby are in my room, you know where it is. Nick, you’re still on the couch, and Bram can take the spare room. Shit!”   
“What?” there’s an urgency to Simon’s cussing, and to Leah’s response.   
“I never walked Mendes. Uh, Bram, you wanna take him out with me?”   
Bram smirks. “Mendes?”   
A deep blush floods Simon’s face, and inside his mind, Bram cheers that he’s finally not the one that’s embarrassed. “After Shawn Mendes. I figured I should carry on the trend we started with Bieber. Plus, Shawn Mendes is cute, and so was this little guy when he was a puppy.”   
“That’s sweet. Yeah, let’s go. Sure you don’t mind me tagging along?”   
“Dude, I invited you. Let me just grab his leash and my cigs from upstairs and we’ll go. Nick, you cool to set yourself up on the couch?”   
“Yeah man, it’s chill.”

 

As Leah, Simon, and Abby make their way up to Simon’s room, Leah whispers something to Simon and once again, he blushes so hard he looks like he’s about to melt into the floor. Bram isn’t sure what she said, but the way Abby glances back at him suggests his name came up.

 

A few minutes later, Simon comes back down, and Nick is already passed out on the couch. He clips the dog onto the leash, and they leave the apartment complex.

 

Given it was Simon that asked Bram to join him on this late-night walk, he’s not exactly being chatty. Moments after leaving the building, Simon mumbles a quick “Do you mind?”, gesturing to his cigarette, but beyond that, there’s not really any conversation.

 

That’s not to say it’s uncomfortable, not by any stretch of the imagination. The amicable silence gives Bram the opportunity to take in more of the city. While the lights are all still up, and the subways can still be heard running beneath their feet, the streets themselves are eerily empty. It’s just Bram, Simon, and the tapping of Mendes’ feet along the sidewalk.

 

They’re about a block away from the apartment when Simon finally speaks up.

 

“So what’s in Baltimore?”   
“Huh?”   
“Baltimore. I figure if you’ve been out there nearly ten years, it must have something pretty great to come home to every night.”   
“Oh. Uh, not really. I just had to get away from Georgia. I have my degree and all but… I d’know. I’m qualified to be an English teacher but when I put myself through all that shit, I came out of college and didn’t really feel like I was in the right headspace to go straight back to high school. Does that make sense?”   
“Definitely, no, yeah, I get that. It makes sense. Sorry for bringing it up.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m not made of glass, Si. I’m not about to break.”

“I didn’t mean it like… I don’t know, I just feel… guilty? I suppose? I feel like bringing you to my place, and having you come to the show - it just feels like bragging. I don’t know. I’m probably being dumb.”

“I chose to be here. You didn’t even know I was coming. You’re not rubbing anything in my face. I don’t have a  _ bad  _ life in Baltimore, I swear. I’m happy there. I’m not where I thought I’d be because I’m trying to take myself somewhere better.”

 

They carry on walking, Mendes leading the way, and they slip back into the silence. Simon has long since finished smoking, stubbing it out on the li of a trash can that they passed. The motion is fluid, graceful, almost like it’s been choreographed as part of the little show he puts on that keeps Bram enthralled. He starts to sing softly under his breath, barely loud enough for Bram to make out over the roar of traffic. He vaguely recognises it as one of the songs from  _ Book of Mormon _ , but he’s not sure which. All he knows is that Simon’s voice sounds just as pretty here as it does onstage.

 

It’s actually kind of frustrating, not being able to shake the way he’s looking at Simon. He’s being given the chance to get these friends back, and his brain is still screaming at him to kiss Simon.

 

Simon stops dead in his tracks, turning on his heels to lock eyes with Bram.

 

“I’m just going to say it, because Leah’s been hounding me all night. Bram, do you like guys?”   
“... Yeah.” Bram is worried. He doesn’t know why.   
“ Am I one of those guys?”

 

Bram just chokes. He can’t say anything, even though this is the conversation he’s been desperate for over a decade. He’s had so many days where he wanted to grab Simon by the shoulders, scream at him for being so oblivious to the way he made Bram’s heart soar. He knows Simon isn’t homophobic. He knows this isn’t likely to be a  _ ‘if you’re crushing on me, I can’t be around you’  _ situation. At his core, he knows this is likely to finally,  _ finally  _ be the moment Simon says he likes Bram too.

 

And yet he’s speechless.

 

“I’m sorry if I made this weird. Forget I said anything.” Simon starts to walk away.

“No!” Bram almost trips over himself in his haste to catch up. “Simon, I like you. And you're  _ mad  _ oblivious if you haven't seen that yet. Ten years, Spier.”

 

Simon is unblinking, eyes wide as he tries to process Bram’s words. Mendes is obediently paused at their feet, sniffing Bram’s shoes. The boys share a shy smile, not quite making eye contact. There’s a palpable tension between them, only broken by the buzzing of Simon’s phone. Bram laughs breathily as Simon goes to read the message, once again being struck by a blush. It’s nice to see that Simon’s blushing too.

 

“It’s Leah. She says we should stop making out and get back before Abby sets the toaster on fire.”   
Bram bursts into giggles. “She thinks so highly of us.”   
“Honestly.” he’s smiling still, that big toothy grin that Bram’s always been soft for. “We should get going, though. Mendes is well and truly walked, and I think the beer’s getting to my head a little. Plus, I’m worried about my toaster.”

 

The two walk back to the apartment building, once again in silence. Simon lights another cigarette, careful to blow the smoke away from Bram’s face. The world around them is by no means quiet, but where he is right now, Bram feels as if he’s in a bubble of pure, blissful silence. It feels like something out of a sappy romantic movie, Simon’s delicate features framed by wisps of smoke and the glowing neon lights of the city that never sleeps, and Bram letting down the walls that he’s spent so long strategically building. It seems like a moment that would be accompanied by a gentle piano score, not the rumble of cars and drunk people being let out of the soon-closing bars.

 

It’s some variation of perfection, and Bram is totally here for it.

 

They let themselves back into the apartment as quietly as possible, both having no intention of waking Nick (a notoriously grumpy drunk). Simon lets Mendes off the leash, and he immediately makes his way to the dog bed by the kitchen radiator. Simon downs a glass of water at the sink, then leads Bram upstairs.

 

There’s a door on their left as they reach the top floor, which Simon gestures to.    
  
“There’s the spare room. I’m sorry about all of Nora’s clutter, but the bed’s made, so… Yeah. There’s some spare pyjamas in the drawer, they should fit me. Uh, I’ll be downstairs. Just- just come get me if you need anything.”   
“Cool. Thanks, man.”   
“No problem.”

 

With yet another breathtaking smile, Simon heads downstairs. Bram finds himself watching the empty space for a few moments.

 

The pyjamas Simon mentioned are just the right size, fleeced fabric with cartoon lightning bolts all over them. Bram chuckles. They’re very Simon.

 

He settles down on the bed and checks his phone. Other than a few suggestive messages from Garrett, and a message from Team Snapchat, not much has happened. He scrolls aimlessly through Twitter, but there isn’t much there either. He’s not sure what’s so difficult about settling down in this overly spacious bed, but his brain won’t switch off.

 

Only ten minutes has passed, but it feels like so much longer. It’s a welcome relief when there’s a gentle tapping sound and the door creaks open. Simon’s head pops around, hair mussed and glasses wonky, and Bram feels light.

 

“You mind if I grab some blankets? Floor down there’s pretty cold.”   
“The floor?”

 

Simon enters, padding gently towards the closet and picking up two blankets.

 

“Yeah, floor. Obviously Nick’s monopolised the couch, and I can’t fall asleep in the chairs. Hence, the hardwood is my new home.” he’s laughing, but Bram feels guilty.   
“Si, take the bed. It’s your house.”   
“You’re the guest, it’s no big deal.”   
“I’m not letting you go back downstairs, Spier.”   
“And I’m not letting you leave this bed.”   
“Guess you’ll have to join me then.” Bram smirks, and something in the air changes.

 

Bram will be the first to admit that he isn’t usually this bold. Not since he left college and tried to fix himself. This feels right, though. Like it was a long time coming. And when Simon mulls it over for the briefest few seconds and shrugs, climbing under the covers and nestling into Bram’s side.

 

The two of them laugh, but not because it’s weird. More because everything suddenly falls into place. The strange atmosphere that stopped Bram feeling able to close his eyes has dissipated, and it takes almost no time at all for him to drift off, comforted by the feeling of Simon by his side.

 

He can’t say this was how he thought this night would end when he began the drive from Baltimore to here, but he can’t say it’s a bad kind of different.

 

Right here, right now, is what Bram wishes had happened a decade ago. And as with many things, it’s better late than never.


End file.
